


I am your music and I am your song

by thegirl20



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/F, abba au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25913374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl20/pseuds/thegirl20
Summary: Be in a band, they said. It'll be fun, they said. Well, it was. Until they won Eurovision. Then everything went mental.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 54
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the [Yennaia Flash Fiction Challenge](https://eileniessa.tumblr.com/post/626504853666086912/yennaia-flash-fiction-challenge-works). Hopefully there will be eight parts of ~1000 words.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt wants to let his girlfriend audition for the band. Jaskier and Tissaia are not amused.

"So we're agreed? We'll let her sing and say 'thanks but no thanks'?"

Tissaia rolls her eyes and drops her head back against the couch. She exhales a plume of smoke, watching it slowly dissipate.

"I agreed to nothing."

"Oh, come _on_." Jaskier flounces over and sits down, taking the joint out of her hand. "You're the lead singer. You don't want some floozy Geralt's picked up off the streets coming in and stealing your limelight, do you?"

"Maybe we need something to shake us up?" She sighs. "We've hardly set the scene alight so far, have we?" She turns to him. "And Geralt never asks us for anything. So we give her a fair audition. Okay?"

The three of them have been mates since meeting at Brighton Poly. Tissaia really should have gone to university, but teenage rebellion and a genuine desire to piss off every adult in her life had made her choose a more vocational route. She'd been introduced to Jaskier and Geralt in a pub her first week there. They'd got talking about music, and the rest is history.

They get gigs locally, and they've played a couple of small festivals, but that's about it. The 'big break' they'd hoped for has never transpired. Despite working day jobs to supplement the meagre income from the band, they're always skint. Tissaia's constantly having to fend off her parents asking her to come home and get married to some double-barrelled arsehole or other.

"Well, I'm sure she'll be terrible," Jaskier decides. "Geralt hears with his cock first and his ears second." He hands her the spliff. "There's no way she'll be any good."

"You're just jealous, Dandelion," Tissaia tells him, taking a hit and holding the smoke in her lungs for a moment before letting it out slowly.

He shoves her shoulder. "Fuck off."

The door to Jaskier's bedsit opens and Geralt pokes his head in. He lifts his eyebrows.

"Evening." He steps inside, followed by the woman in question.

All the air and smoke in Tissaia's chest suddenly want to leave at once. She coughs and splutters and tries to locate the ashtray, all while Jaskier watches in amusement.

The woman lets go of Geralt's arm to approach the couch. She touches Tissaia's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Up close, she's even more beautiful than Tissaia had realised. Long black hair hangs over her shoulders in waves, framing a face that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo. Full, soft lips are twisted in concern and her brow is creased. And her eyes.

Fucking hell, her _eyes_.

"I'm fine," Tissaia says, trying to smile through the coughing fit. She stands, holding out a hand. "Tissaia."

"Yennefer. Or Yen," the girl says, with a bright smile, taking the offered hand.

That weed must have been stronger than usual, because Tissaia could swear she felt a spark of electricity run up her wrist into her arm. Jaskier elbows her out of the way and takes Yennefer's hand, bending to kiss it.

"Jaskier," he says. "At your service, milady."

"It's nice to meet you both," Yennefer says, her eyes finding Tissaia's. "Geralt says you're an amazing singer."

Tissaia's not coy about her talent; she knows she can sing. And yet she can feel her cheeks grow warm at the compliment. She looks over at Geralt and finds him avoiding her gaze. He's so taciturn, that hearing he's used his limited words to talk about her talent is surprisingly flattering.

"Well," Tissaia says, linking her hands at her stomach. "You can judge for yourself."

"And I'm sure he's told you about my unrivalled guitar skills?" Jaskier asks.

"Oh, uh, yeah, course," Yennefer says, clearly lying.

Jaskier huffs, narrowing his eyes at Geralt. "Well, he's told us nothing about you. Except that you're _dying_ to join our band."

"That's-" Yennefer looks down. "I never-" Lifting her head, her eyes find Tissaia's again. "I love to sing. I don't know if I'm anywhere near good enough to be in your band, but Geralt said-" She clears her throat. "Geralt said he thought my voice would work well with yours, so-" She shrugs. "Here I am. I won't be offended if you say no." She laughs softly. "I mean, I'll go home and cry my eyes out, but I'll understand."

As Yennefer speaks, Tissaia is listening to the quality of her speaking voice. It's pitched lower than her own, with a warmer tone. She's intrigued to hear how it sounds in song.

"Right then," Jaskier says. "Let's be hearing you." He picks up his guitar and sits on the arm of the sofa. "What are you going to give us today?"

Yennefer shoves her hair behind an ear. "I thought I could do _Something_ by the Beatles? Is that okay?"

"Good choice," Tissaia nods.

Jaskier starts strumming the opening chords as Yennefer composes herself.

From the first note, Tissaia is _gone_.

Yennefer's voice is like liquid velvet, curling around her ears and warming her chest. She moves confidently through the verses, hitting notes with clarity and precision, no hint of her earlier insecurity.

Unable to help herself, Tissaia stands and joins in with the bridge. Yennefer's eyes light up, apparently delighted by this intrusion. Tissaia lets her voice meet Yennefer's on the melody, sitting alongside it before climbing to harmonise beautifully. They finish the song, looking into each other's eyes as the last chord fades.

"Well," Jaskier says. "Fuck me. That was-"

"Magical," Tissaia finishes.

Yennefer nods, giving her a tentative smile. "So, d'you want me to leave so you can discuss me, or…"

Tissaia looks to Geralt, receiving a single nod, and then to Jaskier, who rolls his eyes, but nods. She smiles at Yennefer. "No need. You're in."

"Seriously? Oh my God!" Yennefer throws her arms around Tissaia, hugging her tightly. Then she's gone, throwing herself into Geralt's arms, kissing him.

Tissaia turns away, bile rising up her throat.

"Who's jealous now, love?" Jaskier murmurs as he passes her.

She sighs. He's not wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band needs a new name.

After Yennefer joins the band, things start to happen. It seems she's the creative spark they all need and they spend night after night staying up late, playing around with lyrics and melodies, coming up with some really good new songs. It doesn't hurt that Yennefer is absolutely stunning, either, and their new posters featuring Yennefer and Tissaia, back to back holding mics attract quite a bit of attention.

There's a worrying period, when Geralt and Yen decide things aren't working between them and agree to split up. But it's amicable and the band stays together, thankfully.

They start getting more gigs and their profile grows considerably. Their old battered van starts putting more and more miles on its tyres as they get hired all around the country. It's after one of these gigs, in Newcastle, when they're sprawled around Yen and Tissaia's room in the B&B the client booked for them that Jaskier decides they need to change the name of the band.

There's a bit of a back and forth where Tissaia argues that they're starting to get known and changing the name might cause confusion. But she's never been particularly fond of ' _Kaer Morhen_ ' anyway. Geralt claims it's the name of a place his family comes from, but Tissaia's never been able to find it on a map. So she relents and joins in with the debate about the new name.

Tissaia's had a few hits off a spliff and is just resting her eyes, when Yen shakes her out of her light doze and thrusts a piece of paper in her face with a word written in blocky black marker.

"What is that?"

Yennefer bounces the bed. "It's our new name!"

Tissaia scrunches up her brow, squinting at the paper. "DYGS? It's not even a word."

"It's our initials," Jaskier tells her from where he's twirling around, his drink spilling over the edge of his tumbler.

She takes the paper from Yen and sits up. "There's no T. Or J."

"No, but-" Yen points at Jaskier. "Dandelion. Yennefer. Geralt." She points at Tissaia. "Skylark. DYGS!"

Tissaia's head spins to pin Geralt and Jaskier with a glare. "Oh, fuck _off_. You told her about that?"

"Aww, c'mon babe." Yennefer says, flopping down so her head is in Tissaia's lap. She smiles up at her, making Tissaia's heart stutter. "I think it's cute. And we couldn't get it to work with a T."

"Yeah, c'mon, witch." Jaskier says, stumbling. Geralt reaches out to steady him. "I've agreed to let them use my nickname!"

"But it's _not_ my nickname!" Tissaia protests. "It's what I, briefly, changed my name to in 1971 to piss my parents off."

"Well, yeah, but we don't have to tell people that," Yen tries to reason. She catches Tissaia's hand and links their fingers. Tissaia tries _very_ hard not to fall into those bottomless eyes. "We can come up with a different story behind it. It can be, like, your stage name."

"We can say it's because you have a voice as beautiful as a Skylark," Jaskier suggests, coughing as he hands the joint to Geralt. "Or that you're the size of one."

"This is really the best you could come up with?" She stretches over and plucks the joint from between Geralt's lips. "What about you? Nothing to say about this?"

Geralt grunts and looks at the paper she's dropped in his lap. "It's short."

"And we'll be able to get t-shirts printed that say 'Do ya DYG it?'" Jaskier puts in. "It'll be cosmic."

Tissaia sighs. "Fine. DYGS it is."

Jaskier whoops and jumps onto the bed, resulting in a very cramped pile of bodies. Yennefer's face is squashed against her chest and she caves in and slides her fingers through dark tresses, enjoying the closeness. Yen manages to wriggle free and lifts her head, meeting Tissaia's eyes. A moment passes between them, but Jaskier chooses that second to plant a wet kiss on Tissaia's cheek.

She shoves him away, rubbing at her cheek in disgust. Yen has moved over to Geralt, and is prodding him, trying to make him laugh. The moment has passed.

She sighs.

* * *

Not long after that, the boys leave to go to their own room, with Geralt shushing a giggling Jaskier in case he wakes the terrifying landlady who had looked down her nose at them on their arrival.

Tissaia closes the door once she hears them successfully get into their room. She turns and leans against it, but gasps when she finds Yennefer standing directly in front of her. She puts her hands on either side of Tissaia's shoulders, effectively trapping her.

"Are you ever going to fucking kiss me?" Yennefer asks, her voice almost a growl.

Tissaia's brain goes blank. That's the only description for it. She forgets how to speak, how to move, what her own name is. She says the only thing that comes to mind. "What?"

Yennefer moves forward, pressing their bodies together, nuzzling at her ear. "I've tried to be patient, but fuck Tissaia." She drops a hand to Tissaia's hip. "We're both gonna be seventy before you make a move."

"I didn't think- I mean-" She swallows through a suddenly dry throat, trying to clear the fog from her brain as Yennefer's nose bumps against her own. "I thought-" She shakes her head. "You and Geralt-"

"Were over ages ago, you _know_ that," Yennefer says, her lips brushing Tissaia's cheek with each word. "And you want me. I know you do. I can see it whenever you look at me."

"Yes, but-" Tissaia's hands land on Yennefer's waist.

"But what?" Yennefer whispers, her eyes wide and hopeful.

Tissaia's mother's voice rings in her head, like it did the day she walked in on her and the stable girl in a compromising position when Tissaia was fourteen. Words like 'improper' and 'wrong' and 'dirty'.

"But nothing," Tissaia says, with a smile, cupping Yennefer's face and pulling her in. "Just kiss me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tissaia's inspired, early one morning. 
> 
> This chapter has some smut in it. Well, as close to smut as I get. So skip it if you're not into that.

Tissaia strums a few chords, humming an experimental melody. Frowning, she tries a different key. She picks up her pen, scratching out a lyric and replacing it with something that fits the melody better.

It's far too early to be up. It's still dark outside and the heating in the flat isn't the most reliable. But the kernels of a song had been dancing around her head, determined to be written. So she'd dragged herself from the warmth of her bed and grabbed her guitar. Unable to find any paper, so she'd ripped a cereal box in half and scribbled out the snatches of lyrics that had been plaguing her sleep.

The band are really starting to pick up buzz now. They've had a couple of singles break the top twenty and their gigs are selling out regularly. At every opportunity, they're writing and experimenting, trying to find the song that could be their first big hit.

" _Make your fingers, soft and light. Let your body, be the silk of the night_."

She wrinkles her nose, something's off about that line. She jots some musical notation below each of the syllables, trying to get a feel for the rhythm.

"Hey."

Tissaia turns to find Yennefer approaching, rubbing at her eye and pulling Tissaia's dressing gown tighter around herself.

"Did I wake you?" Tissaia murmurs, accepting the kiss Yennefer presses to her cheek.

"No. I woke up and wondered where you were." Yennefer sits down behind her on the couch, wrapping her arms around her waist and leaning her chin on her shoulder. "You writing something?"

Nodding to the hastily written lyrics, Tissaia sighs. "Trying to."

Yen picks up the cardboard and scans it. "This is beautiful." She drags her lips over the ridge of Tissaia's shoulder. "Inspired by anyone in particular?"

Tissaia laughs softly as Yennefer starts to kiss up her neck, to her ear. "Perhaps," she allows. She turns to meet Yennefer's mouth with her own, sinking further back into her embrace. Yennefer drops the lyrics, her hand slipping beneath the oversized sweatshirt Tissaia had pulled on before she'd left the bedroom.

"Will you sing it for me?" Yen whispers, peppering Tissaia's neck with kisses.

"Oh, it's really rough," Tissaia protests.

"You know I like it rough sometimes, babe," Yen says, biting Tissaia's shoulder.

"Fine," Tissaia says, pulling Yen's hand out from under her top. "But I can't play if you're doing that."

"Okay," Yen settles in behind her, letting her hands slide to her hips. "I'll behave."

"That'll be a first," Tissaia says, but she starts to strum. She glances at the lyrics, but closes her eyes when she starts to sing. " _Take it easy with me, please. Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze._ " Totally ignoring Tissaia's earlier instruction, Yennefer's fingers slip beneath her sweatshirt again, trailing up her sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. " _Take your time, make it slow. Andante, andante. Just let the feeling grow."_

One of Yennefer's hands splays across her bare stomach, just below her breasts, her thumb stroking back and forth. Soft lips brush over the spot behind her ear and it takes a great deal of willpower to keep singing.

" _Make your fingers, soft and light. Let your body be the-_ " This time the right word slots in without her having consciously chosen it. " _-velvet of the night. Touch my soul, you know how._ " Yennefer's other hand starts its journey south and Tissaia's fingers fumble with the strings, momentarily forgetting how to play.

"Keep going," Yennefer whispers. "Sounds amazing."

Tissaia swallows, letting her head rest against Yennefer's and canting her hips slightly. " _Andante, andante. Go slowly with me now."_

"Oh, I intend to," Yennefer says, and though she can't see it, Tissaia knows she's wearing a wicked smile.

" _I'm your music, I'm your song._ " Tissaia's breath catches when Yen's questing fingers find their destination. " _Play me time and time again and make me strong._ " Yennefer strokes her; slow, torturous, wonderful. She's picked up the tune, now, and is humming against Tissaia's ear. " _Make me sing, make me sound. Andante, andante. Tread lightly on my ground._ " She gasps when Yen applies delightful pressure where she desires it. " _Andante, andante. Oh, please, don't let me down._ "

"No chance of that," Yen whispers.

Tissaia lets the guitar fall to the floor, the strings singing for a moment after the hollow clatter. She cups Yen's cheek and turns to meet her mouth, still moving with her in time with her long, measured strokes. Yen's hand finds her breast, her thumb playing out the same rhythm on her nipple as her other one is lower down, like a treble and bass line perfectly synchronised.

Both hands leave her body and she lets out a whimper, grabbing Yen's wrist to pull her back.

"Shhhh," Yennefer encourages her to turn and lie on the couch. She smiles down at her, pushing some hair from her brow. "I wanted to see your face."

Tissaia nods, slipping a hand behind Yen's neck and pulling her into a kiss. Her whole body lifts up to meet the one above, desperate for contact, for touch. Yennefer doesn't leave her waiting and soon she's filled up with long, perfect fingers.

"Yes, darling," she moans. "Yes, like that." She drags her into another kiss, heels pressing into the couch to lift her hips up, trying to coax more movement, more friction. She breaks the kiss, panting. "Faster, Yen."

"No," Yennefer murmurs, kissing her sternum.

"No?" Tissaia frowns at her. "What do you mean no?"

"You just wrote a whole fucking song about taking it slow, Tissaia," Yen says, her smile turning sinful. "So that's what I'm doing." She drags her tongue over a sensitive nipple and covers it with her lips, smiling around it. "I'm going to take my time with you. And you're going to love it."

Tissaia sighs, closing her eyes and giving herself over to Yennefer's sweet torture, smiling when soft lips trail down her abdomen.

 _Andante, andante,_ indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band gets a manager.

Success comes quickly, and via an unexpected route.

Jaskier comes to practice one day announcing that he's found them a manager with tons of industry experience. And, to his credit, he's not exaggerating.

Rick Stregobor worked with some of the biggest names in the sixties. His star is somewhat faded now, and he is _far_ too old to leave that number of buttons undone on his shirt, but he does know his stuff.

It's through Stregobor's industry connections that DYGS become the frontrunners in a series of auditions to represent the United Kingdom in the Eurovision Song Contest. It's being held in their own stomping ground of Brighton, which seems to go in their favour; they get chosen.

After that, things are a bit of a blur. They have to tighten up the song. There's costuming and dance moves to think about. Stregobor becomes obsessed with image and coaches them on interview techniques. He's also keen for them to influence the voters if they can.

"We know we've lost France," he opines one evening when the band are finishing up a rehearsal. "We're not getting any points from them for singing about a battle they lost."

She's loathe to agree with Stregobor, but she had pointed this out when they were choosing the song. She keeps her mouth shut, though she can see Yennefer smirking at her from across the room.

"When do the French ever give us anything?" Geralt mumbles, hefting Jaskier's guitar case over his shoulder to take out to the van.

"We've got to be strategic about this," Stregobor continues. "Tissaia, we can get the Nordics on side if you mention that you're half Swedish."

"Quarter Swedish," Tissaia says, not looking up from where she's pretending to read an article.

Stregobor waves away her correction. "Semantics. Talk about pickled fish in an interview. Mention a Smörgåsbord." He drops into the seat beside Yennefer, resting his hand on her knee. Tissaia bristles. "And Yen, our exotic beauty, could hint at a Spanish heritage."

"But I'm not Spanish," Yen protests, brow creased. "I'm half Indian."

"Well India don't get a fucking vote, do they darling?" Stregobor says, with a roll of his eyes. He pats her knee. "Spanish, then. Italian if you must, but they're more unpredictable."

Jaskier catches Geralt's arm when he comes back in, draping himself against him. "Geralt has some German in him." He aims a lewd wink at Stregobor. "And, depending on the time of day, so do I."

Tissaia doesn't miss the sour look that flashes over Stregobor's face before he schools it into an amused smile. She files that information away. He claims to be very open-minded, but she's seen his reactions when he thinks they're not looking. It unsettles her. It's difficult enough to hide a large part of yourself from the world without having to be on guard in private as well.

A hand on her chin tilts her face up. She recoils away from Stregobor's bony fingers, scowling. He tuts.

"Tiss, sweetheart, you're far too little and cute to pull off sultry. You just look like a kid having a tantrum." He saunters over to Yennefer and drapes his sinewy arm over her shoulders. "Our bombshell, on the other hand, she can get away with it." He makes what Tissaia assumes is a pouty expression. "Those lips."

Tissaia stands, then, and it's only Geralt's strong hand on her arm, holding her back, that prevents Stregobor from ending up with a broken nose. Yennefer slips out from under his arm.

"I think we're finished for the evening," Tissaia says.

Stregobor just smiles, dripping disdain. "Of course. I'll see you tomorrow. Bright and early for final costume fittings." He pulls on a worn leather coat. "Try and remember to wear underwear, eh?" He slaps Yennefer's arse as he passes her.

"You fucking-" Tissaia launches herself forward, but Geralt's already got him by the wrist.

"Don't touch her," Geralt says, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't touch any of them."

"Hey!" Stregobor holds his other hand up as if surrendering. "It's cool, man! It's all cool. It was just a friendly pat." Geralt lets go of him and he steps away, rubbing at his wrist as he opens the door to the rehearsal space. "The girls will need to get used to people being friendly if you're gonna get anywhere in this business." He sneers. "Last thing anyone wants to deal with is a couple of frigid dykes."

The door slams behind him just as Tissaia reaches it. Yennefer's hands on her shoulders still her. She can feel her chest vibrating with anger and shame. She's had hateful words thrown at her her whole life. Mostly by her mother. She should be hardened to them by now. And still he's managed to rile her.

"It's fine, babe," Yennefer soothes, rubbing at her arms. "C'mon, let's just go."

She nods, letting Yennefer take her hand and lead her out of the building.

* * *

The drive home is quiet. They're all squashed into the front of the van, with Tissaia sitting in Yennefer's lap. Not that she's complaining. Not when Yen's thumb keeps sweeping up under her t-shirt to skim across her belly. She closes her eyes, resting her forehead against Yen's temple.

"I hate him," she murmurs. "I fucking hate him."

"I know," Yen says. "I hate him too."

"We need him right now," Jaskier says, and even he doesn't sound as sure as he once did. "He has the connections."

"Fuck his connections," Tissaia says. But she knows Jaskier's right. "After the competition we're ditching him."

"Agreed," Geralt mutters, coaxing the old van up a gear.

They lapse into silence again. Yennefer slides her hand further around Tissaia's waist, tugging her closer.

"There's only one person I want touching me, okay?" she whispers.

Tissaia smiles, and kisses the tip of Yennefer's nose. They just need to get to this competition and lose, and Stregobor can go fuck himself.

* * *

Problem is, they only fucking win.

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Any similarities to ABBA are purely coincidental. 😉


End file.
